


Everything You Need

by Youwerenevermeanttofeelalone



Category: DC Comics, Shazam - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Platonic Relationship, depictions of worry/light anxiety, mentions of food and an unhealthy relationship with it, platonic fluff, self-hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24244633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Youwerenevermeanttofeelalone/pseuds/Youwerenevermeanttofeelalone
Summary: You love your friends (which is mutual) but you hate yourself and Billy finds out.
Relationships: Billy Batson & Plus Size Reader, Billy Batson & Reader
Kudos: 7





	Everything You Need

**Author's Note:**

> @youwerenevermeanttofeelalone on tumblr.

Billy admired you. He didn’t consider himself a bad person anymore, but if he compared his attitude to yours, he fell short. You were the kindest soul he would ever meet, always giving your best to everyone, caring for and about your friends — you even helped strangers, offering to do things they couldn’t for whatever reason, and constantly making sure people around you were comfortable. You were the funniest person in his life, never failing to make people laugh, the nicest, one of the smartest.

You made people happy, you made him happy, and it worried him because he had observed you were acting weirdly lately. Maybe you were just tired because of school, or maybe he was getting too overprotective — he blamed you for the second one, but not in a bad way anymore. Not long ago he had found relying on people or having people rely on him pointless, frightening at times; Billy now saw it as less of a nuisance and more as a responsibility. 

However it was hard, like every responsibility, and it not being his only one didn’t help. He was getting better at putting up with his teachers, though, that was something.

He turned around to look at you before the class started, as he did every day, but you weren’t there. Your usual seat was empty, again, it was the third time that week. 

He looked for you everywhere, the art room, the gym, he asked around in case you had gotten there late, he faked having a headache to make sure you weren’t in the infirmary. Everyone but you were in the cafeteria at lunchtime, even Freddy had asked about you when he encountered his brother in the hallways, and by the time the school day finished, he was about to panic. 

Billy sighed, relieved, finding you with your back against the big tree you usually made homework under. The park was almost empty apart from a couple sharing an ice cream at the bench meters away from the tree, but you didn’t seem to be paying attention to that.

“Hey.”

Wiping the tears running down your cheeks, you looked up with your eyes wide. “Billy! What are you doing here?”

Your best friend dropped his backpack next to yours, sitting down in front of you instead of beside you in order to fully stare at you. “What are *YOU*doing here is the real question.”

Shrugging, you blinked rapidly. He would surely know it if you lied, Billy might be silly sometimes but never dumb — your only option was staying silent. 

“(Y/N)? Is something wrong?”

How do you tell someone everything is wrong when you’ve fooled them for years? Hating yourself was easy, natural, but saying it ashamed you. You were utterly terrified he’d find it dumb, that he would think you had lied about everything just because you didn’t show how miserable you were when you simply didn’t want anyone else to feel as bad as you did. 

“I’m stressed,” you opted for saying. 

Billy nodded in understanding. He lightly placed his hand on your knee in a comforting gesture, “I will help you with all the school stuff, don’t worry!”

Faking a smile, you nodded back, hoping he would take his hand away quickly enough to not realize how plush your legs really were. You didn’t know if you thought it to be better if he didn’t pay attention to it or not which only made it worse. 

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Billy kept his word. Even though you didn’t really need help with school stuff you went with it, enjoying spending time with him and Freddy who didn’t need help either. 

But the problem started when he showed signs of knowing you didn’t need help with homework. Billy noticed every change in your demeanor. Freddy teased him about it when he confided on his brother and best friend that you were acting differently, but Billy was too busy worrying about you to care if he was being teased or not. 

The changes were startling, you were tired all the time, and jumpy. It was as if you were hiding something which wasn’t normal in you, sure you kept secrets but you never hid things — definitely not from him. The most worrisome part was how often you skipped lunch and the disgusted look on your face when you saw anyone with food in their grasp. 

“Oh my god!” Billy exclaimed, making Freddy drop the bowl of cereal he had been eating for dinner.

“Wh—“

“I’ll tell you later,” Billy interrupted his brother, walking toward the front door. He put his jacket on, zipping it up before swinging the door open and leaving the house in a hurry. 

How could it have taken him so long to figure it out? What kind of friend didn’t think something was wrong when one of the most important persons in their life stops taking care of themselves? Or when that person disappears at any time there’s food near them?

The way to your house felt so long that he considered summoning Shazam to get there quicker. He knew it was only the effect the nerves coursing through his veins had on him so he continued running, hoping your mom wouldn’t oppose to him being there that light. He hadn’t really considered it was a little late for visiting. 

With no hesitation whatsoever, he rang the doorbell. 

He smiled at your mom when she opened the door, “good night, Mrs. (L/N). Is (N/N) busy?”

“She isn’t feeling very well, Billy,” your mom explained, worry clear in her voice. 

“Can I see her?” 

Your mom looked at him for a prolonged moment. She was about to say no, to let you rest, when she saw the semblance Billy carried. He looked so worried, more than how she imagined she looked, and because of that she decided to spare the teen in front of her the anguish. “Of course, you know where her room is.”

Thanking your mom, he slid past her and made his way toward the stairway. He ran upstairs.

The door of your room opened out of the sudden, prompting you to turn the lamp on. Billy entered, not waiting for you to give him permission and not asking for it either. 

He sat down on the edge of your bed, looking at you. The light from the lamp made your reddened eyes more prominent, confirming his assumption that you had been crying. 

“Why?” he inquired, wild eyes fixed on your tired ones. 

You mumbled, confused, “why what?”

“Why aren’t you eating,” he clarified. 

Your heart dropped — a knot formed in your stomach as your pulse quickened. It was the most adrenaline you had felt in weeks, you were sure you would’ve thrown up by now if it wasn’t because he was right, you hadn’t been eating. 

“I’m not hungry.” It was a pathetic lie, both you and billy knew. To make matters worse, your stomach rumbled seconds after you lied. 

Your best friend glared at you. “(Y/N),” he said your name sternly, “Why?”

You turned your head to not have to face him. “I— I’m not— I don’t like myself.”

“Oh, come on, (N/N)! You’re the most amazing person in the world.”

“I don’t want to be that! Well, I do, yeah, but I don’t—“ your voice cracked, “I mean my appearance, Billy.”

“The only wrong thing with your appearance is how tired you look right now, I’m sure that’ll change if you eat and sleep better.”

God, for the smartest person you knew, Billy was either dense or was trying to force you to be more explicit. 

“I’m trying to lose weight. Or at least not gain more,” you said quickly, hoping it didn’t sound as pathetic as you felt. 

And you did, oh, you did. You just wanted to be happy with yourself, it wasn’t a crazy wish to have, but no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t. Every day you found a new thing to hate about yourself, a new thing anyone could make fun of you for. 

Billy stuttered, trying for his words not to come out harsh. It had been really hard to learn not to be abrasive. “Well, maybe you can’t, you know? Genetics have a play there...” he trailed off upon hearing your scoff. He shifted on the bed, now sat in a position that allowed him to fully face you. 

He felt something in his chest by seeing you so upset. Similar to what he felt when his siblings had been in danger. Billy wasn’t sure he could save you, though, and it made him feel worse. His mind told him he needed to reprimand you, to make you understand, while his heart told him he needed to comfort you. He was too worried to find a balance, yet he still tried. 

He placed a hand on your calf from on top of the duvet. He felt you tense under his touch. “You’re smart, you know it’s not the solution.”

“You’re not helping, Billy. We’ll never agree on this because you are not the one who feels like crap because of their looks.”

“But what looks!?” He exploded, “you’re pretty, (Y/N), you must know that.”

“But I’m fat!”

“That doesn’t change anything! And you are just putting yourself in danger.”

“Maybe I don’t care if I’m in danger,” you bitterly pointed out.

You saw the redness of his cheeks leave his face in a matter of milliseconds. His hand felt heavier on your calf as if he was trying to ground himself. 

“I do care,” he said in a breath, “I care a lot. I don’t want to see you tired all the time, or have to see you in a hospital bed being fed through a tube, or...” he couldn’t say it, he didn’t want to ever think about the possibility of you dying. 

Your bottom lip trembled. “I don’t want to worry anyone—“

Billy shushed you, “I know, I’m sorry.” He didn’t want you to feel guilty, it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault per se. “I’m just scared for you.”

“I don’t want to be like this anymore,” you sobbed, hanging your head. Saying it gave you a mixture of anguish and easiness; having somebody to hear you was nice yet you couldn’t help but get overwhelmed by how vulnerable saying it made you feel. 

Billy kneeled on your bed, pulling you into a hug with the side of your body against his front. “It’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

You rested the left side of your face on him, letting the tears fall down. “I feel like it is.”

“There isn’t, I promise.” He sighed, feeling you shake as you attempted to stop crying. “(N/N),” he whispered softly, “there are other ways to do this. Maybe the answer is not the one you will like at first but your health is the priority.”

“I don’t like hating myself, but I can’t stop. I just want to look at my reflection in the mirror and not focus on everything that’s wrong with my body — I feel like people stare at me in the street and judge me and it makes me hate myself more, I just want it all to stop, Billy.”

Hearing that broke his heart, it truly did. It made him feel impotent to know he couldn’t fix it. What was the point of being a superhero if he couldn’t help all the people he loved? It wasn’t fair for you that he had the ability to save you from everything but your mind. 

“We will find a solution,” he assured you.

“How can you be so sure?”

“We always do,” he squeezed you as tightly as he could, “but you have to promise me you will accept it, no matter what it is.”

“And if I can’t promise that?” You asked, scared he would stop being your friend. 

Billy rested his chin on top of your head. “We will work on it, on everything you need.”


End file.
